farewell, tito rey

Yesterday, my Tito Rey’s suffering has finally come to an end.

My tatay called me up early morning to tell me that my Tito Rey was again rushed to the hospital because he was again vomiting blood. This time, he was brought only to the Bulacan Provincial hospital because they can’t afford to bring him to St. Luke’s Medical Center anymore, after spending about 500,000 pesos for more than a week of hospitalization there.

When PrevMed class ended and I looked at my cellphone to see that my father had a message asking me if he could call, I knew something was very wrong. This was the same scenario I experienced when my mother was nearing her death: a relative calling me up during a schoolday, asking if I could go home earlier.

I decided to absent myself from Pharmacology class later that afternoon, and instead go home early. When my tatay picked me up, my sister and I started crying. We were both crying all the way home. My tatay drove the van as fast as he could; all the while not knowing what we are going to see when we arrive. My father has told us that my Tito Rey vomited blood that filled 2 liters of Sprite bottles in the hospital, excluding the other containers that he vomited into before he was rushed there.

I didn’t know what to pray for at that time, while we were speeding through the expressway. I wanted my Tito Rey’s suffering to end. He was going through the same thing that my mother went through. But I didn’t want him to die. Why can’t his sufferings just end and still live?

As I have mentioned in my past entry, he has gone through a lot of collapse and low BPs and blood-vomiting, but he still managed to survive. When we arrived at the hospital, I knew that this time, he wasn’t going to make it.

Everybody was present: his wife, his 2 children Reanne and Denise, his in-laws, his mother, sisters, brother, nieces and nephews, and even some neighbors who have come to love Tito Rey. Everyone was crying. It was very difficult for me, because I have seen this situation before. I knew how difficult it was.

I stayed there in the room, watching my him. A few minutes before he slipped into a coma, he was holding tight onto the hands of my Tito Ronald and my Tita Aida. His eyes were fixated at the ceiling, and to me it looked like he was looking at someone. He looked like he was pleading to someone. There were a number of times when he would make a sound, and squeeze the hands he was holding even more tightly, while lifting his body from the bed slightly. I swear, seeing him like that, made me think that he was already being taken but he didn’t want to, yet.

I knew why. Somebody has not yet accepted what was going to happen.

During the first few episodes of my Tito Rey showing paghihingalo, my Tita Ninia was going hysterical. But when she finally whispered to my Tito Rey “Sige na Dad, kaya ko na.”, that was when my Tito Rey finally tried to let go. He slipped into a coma, his blood pressure became lower and lower, his grip to the hands of his siblings became loose, signaling that he was soon to leave.

A few minutes later, his breathing became even more labored, slower, until it became irregular. Everyone around me started crying really loud. I didn’t know who to comfort, I just hugged whoever was beside me. Then suddenly, blood flowed out of my Tito Rey’s mouth, and he was gone.

For the second time in my life, I watched somebody die.

When my Tito Rey left, my Tita Ninia wasn’t hysterical anymore. She already knew what to do, she was calm. And I thanked God that she has already accepted it.

I really feel sorry for my two cousins, Rienne and Denise, who have no understanding yet of what was happening. Denise was still playing and jumping around, while Rienne was pointing towards my Tito’s room, saying “Daddy!”. I told Denise to take care of their mommy very well, but the look on her face showed her that my words were still too much for her young mind.

It really amazes me how brave and strong Tito Rey was. The few days that he was at St. Luke’s and I visited him everyday, I saw him struggle through the IV insertions, the pain, the difficulty of not seeing his children. I will remember him for the courage and strength that he has shown in fighting cancer. I remember one day, when he was standing up and stretching his limbs, I was exercising with him too, to lighten him up. He bent forward a little, and my Tito Ronald joked “Mag-ocho-ocho ka Rey”. He did. Despite all those tubes and the edematous limbs and the painful lower back and the distended abdomen, he did the “ocho-ocho”.

I know he’s now happy wherever he is, but he will continue to watch over his family. I just told him “Paki-hello nalang ako sa nanay ko.”

My Tita Bonita told me, that he told Tito Rey to pray, and he answered back “Hindi naman ako natatakot, dahil alam ko dun naman ako sa itaas.”

We will miss you Tito Rey.